Monsters
by Mayofish
Summary: She hated what Deathwing had become — she hated the dragon blood in her veins even more. The Black Dragonflight was supposed to be guardians of the earth, but instead the whispering drove them to destroy the very thing they were sworn to protect. It was for this reason that she wanted to forget she was ever a dragon.
1. Escape

You were my conscience, so solid, now you're like water  
>And we started drowning, not like we'd sink any further<br>But I let my heart go, it's somewhere down at the bottom  
>But I'll get a new one and come back for the hope that you've stolen<br>- Monster by Paramore

She hated what Deathwing had become — she hated the dragon blood in her veins even more.

**Belwynn Arc 1/2**

Avaria was there from the very beginning. She was there when the Black Dragons where charged with protecting the earth. It was a noble cause and she would serve the Titian to her death. But she was also there when the whispering started. The stronger dragons fell victim first and she watched in horror as her own Aspect turned against the other Flights.

But it was okay, right? They could still do their duty. They could still protect.

The dragon war was bloody, the whispers where loud. They became monsters. That's when she first started to hate the very blood in her veins. She tried to fight the voices, tried to protect, but in the end, even she participated in the slaughter. There was, however, relief. The Black Dragonflight was small and they were hunted. This wasn't the end, this was the beginning. They must escape, they must run. They must _survive_.

Have you ever walked through the Dark Portal? The feeling of your body being torn at and sucked in every direction but you have to keep walking and just like as soon as you stepped into that cold dark place, it's over. You are somewhere new. You could be home or you could be lost. Yet, there's a coldness that settles in your bones for hours after.

Avaria remembers blinking against the brightness on the other side and there was a sense of freedom—but it wasn't home. It wasn't Azeroth.

The slaughter wasn't over though. The Titians were not done punishing them. They were few and when the Gron attacked, they were even fewer. Eggs were broken, whelps were murdered and the older drakes fought. This was their only hope of surviving, this was their salvation and it was being taken away, impaled on spikes.

They were forced to run once again.

And Deathwing, their wonderful aspect, ran even farther. He abandoned them in this lonely, terrible place. And they were alone, leaderless and forgotten. But the terror wasn't over. It never was. The world itself shattered under them, the earth itself rose against them. Yet amidst this chaos, a new leader rose up. Sabellian would save their Flight — _his_ Flight here beyond the Dark Portal.

Somewhere among the constant fighting for their lives _(-and none of them knew exactly when) _the whispered faded. The Old Gods could not reach them here. The Black Dragons where left to see the horrors they committed in a clear, untainted light. They had failed the Titans. They were monsters. They were hated.

Through nothing but the fierce need for survival, all the remaining drakes were put to work reviving their Flight. Avaria took her duty proudly, each new brood beautiful and strong. They grew; they survived even with the consent threat, the consent slaughter and attacks. When the flood of adventures came to their land, Sabellian went to work to enact revenge and stop the butchery of his Flight because they had all become his children. It did not matter if they were a direct blood relative or not, they were a family. That is what a Flight should be and that is what their Flight was. Sabellian made sure of that and he worked to undo the mental and physical damage Deathwing and the Old Gods had done.

But the fear of the whispers returning was vivid and crippling, especially in stronger dragons like Sabellian. As a true son of Deathwing, he refused to become what Deathwing had. They all refused, they all feared it. None of them even spoke of a different world, another home, to the new whelps. No, to them, this is all they would know and they were free of the burden of the Aspect of Earth.

Avaria used to find escape from the whispers underground. Here, surrounded by the earth, she could think — even if it was for only a moment. She started out in a human form like all her brethren, wandering the streets of Iron Forge, of Blackrock Mountain; anywhere she could find the confines of earthen walls.

She felt a kinship to the dwarves here. Like her, they were born of the Titians. She studied them in detail; her interest in them was undying, unsated. The Dark Iron Dwarves were slaves just as her, to a different master, but it was all the same. She took a new form. She fell into line with them. She felt at home, at least until the whispering gripped her mind and pulled her back to the surface, back to the fighting.

She collected books and scrolls and clung to them tightly when they escaped into Outlands. When she wasn't fighting, she was tending to her eggs and it was then that she read. She was careful with her large talons as she turned the pages. Her thirst for knowledge like that of a Blue, but no one said a word because her whelps were strong and that is what they needed. Many females had trouble producing solid broods and the stress would take its toll. It was the distraction of the scrolls that allowed Avaria to hide. In the short times she was without eggs and without gron to defeat, she would work on perfecting her dwarven image. This wasn't unusual, dragons where arrogant creatures and many of them like to have a seamless, beautiful human and elven form.

The texts she had were old, so she studied and memorized the old dwarven ways when the most beautiful woman had full beards and strong muscles. Dragons had beards so it was no different to them. She worked for many days carving a large totem out of the stone of the Blades with her talons. She studied shamanism and it came easy to her, even here, because she born of the earth, born to protect. Earth and fire gave her their blessing.

Finally, with the Flight reaching a perfect size and the threats gone thanks to adventures, Avaria made up her mind.

"I'm going back."

The Son of Deathwing shifted his wings and turned his large head to the female Drake behind him.

"Have you forgotten so soon?"

She remained silent and Sabellian finally rose to his feet.

"What can you possibly gain from going back?"

"Appeasement."

The dragon in front of her laughed, a deep bellow from his chest. "You really think you can appease the Titians, after all we've done?" despite his laugh his voice was sad.

"I want to try," Avaria stood tall, almost able to meet this height of Sabellian's hulking form.

There was a silence as he examined her. She had provided much to their Flight.

"Be fast. If the whispers return, come home imminently. Do not lose yourself, sister."

It was the first and last time he even called her sister. They did not share blood, but they shared the blackened scales and that was enough.

Avaria took flight.


	2. Return

_I'll stop the whole world, I'll stop the whole world  
>From turning into a monster eating us alive<br>Don't you ever wonder how we survive?  
>Well now that you're gone, the world is ours<em>

_- Monster by Paramore_

Deathwing destroyed the very land he was made to protect.

**Belwynn Arc 2/2**

Avaria stepped out of the Dark Portal as Belwynn. She shed her dragon skin for the form of a Dark Iron Dwarf and she felt perfect. The world outside had changed and it was new and interesting and she wanted to see it all. Her totem lay heavily on her broad shoulders and she was ready.

She made her home in Ironforge and fed her greed for jewels and trinkets by taking up odd mercenary and body guard jobs. She felt at home, even more so in this body. The stone walls all around her felt right. She found that the dwarven culture had changed a lot from what she had studied in her texts in Outlands, but it only fueled her urge to learn more.

However, the tranquil contentment was short lived. The earth shook one day and it brought back memories of the shattering in Outlands. Adrenaline surged in her blood and she needed to protect it, needed to repair it. It wasn't long before the word traveled to the mountain city and the truth sent a rage through her like no other.

Deathwing and the Cataclysm.

It was at that moment that she hated herself, hated her blood and her true form. She was disgusted and felt sick. There was a pain in her head, the pain of Azeroth. She told herself at that moment she was no longer a dragon, no longer a member of the Black Dragonflight.

No. At that moment she was Belwynn Onyxbrew and she was free — untainted. She would see to Deathwing's destruction.

Sometimes she dreamed of tentacles. Sometimes they spoke to her.

It was a long, hard journey but Belwynn secured a spot with the group preparing to kill the former Aspect. She kept to the backlines, praying to the earth and fire elements and begging the Titians for forgiveness. They fought through cultists and Ragnaros himself. She would repent, she would be free. And that would be enough to free her of this terrible sickness in her gut, right?

They even cornered Nefarian and when he fell, he saw her. A flash ran through her eyes and maybe thought she would help him. He lifted his head to speak and she raised her totem. She could never forget the look of betrayal on his face, nor the sickening sound of his skull against the stone floor.

They called her a dragonslayer, a true hero of the Alliance.

She heard Nefarian's voice in her head after that. It was his voice, right?

When the time came to start the final assault, the warriors were told to travel to Dragonblight. The other Aspects where there and a dread settled into her chest. She couldn't approach them — they would know. She hung back, watched the rest of the adventures become heroes. She couldn't repent.

She felt it when Deathwing died. It was a pain in the back of her head and it was like nothing she had ever experienced. The death of her Aspect. That's when she was reminded of who she was and she could never escape. She shuddered and the earth around her did too. The stone seemed to sing and the destruction ended. It was over and now there should be relief.

But then why did Belwynn feel so much worse?

The voices where ever so faint at first. She thought she was imagining it.

Belwynn became an expert on ignoring her feelings. She continued her new life as Dwarf and listened to rumors of a new beautiful continent. But she stayed in Ironforge. It was safe here. It felt like home. She still worked hard, and she had a wonderful horde of gems, jewels and trinkets. It was any lesser dragon's dream. She wouldn't say she was exactly happy, but she was content. Yet, there was a tugging at the back of her mind. This is who she was now and she nearly forgot about who she had been — about the blood that ran through her veins.

This was the age of mortals. She was mortal. There were no Aspects and Azeroth was free in that sense.

But then the rumors started. The hushed voices talking of the Black Prince — the last black dragon. At first Belwynn thought she was hearing things but her curiosity was always deadly. Over a mug of ale, she spoke to some men in a tavern. Their lips were loose and they spoke freely. They had just come back from Pandaria, and although they had not seen him themselves, they told her his name was Wrathion. He had single handedly killed the rest of his Flight. He had ended the terror of the Black Dragonflight. The Prince himself, they said, was pure! Untainted! But how could that be? An uncorrupted Son of Deathwing? Maybe there was a cure…But at what cost? The cost of their own kind? If he did have a cure, he surely wasn't sharing.

She excused herself from the tavern.

There were whispers now. She couldn't ignore it.

She had to get back to Outlands. She couldn't risk becoming a pawn to the Old Gods again. Couldn't risk giving the Prince a reason to find her, to kill her. She was scared to die. She wanted to be free of this madness, these voices. She left her jewels and gems, only kept her armor and her totem and she left without a word to those that maybe she had considered friends.

She was a black dragon. Her family was on the other side. This place was dangerous, this place was not home. She remembered now and she wished to stretch her wings and_ soar_. (-but was that her thinking or the voices? She couldn't tell anymore. Her head hurt.)

When she got the portal she could feel a sense of relief, her salvation. But something was wrong. Panic set in. The portal was red. The voices were loud now, tugging at her mind. She had to escape, she had to return.

Belwynn went through the portal.


End file.
